


outstretched hands searching for fingertips.

by cherryvanilla



Category: Music RPF, Rilo Kiley
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-21
Updated: 2010-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you find your way back.  Originally written May 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	outstretched hands searching for fingertips.

**Author's Note:**

> Based around the contents of an article with Jenny Lewis by Harp Magazine.  
> Main title by Remember Maine. Additional lyrics by Rilo Kiley.

_If you go_  
i think i might  
lose it all together

“We have to talk.”

Jenny never liked hearing those words, inside or out of a relationship. Those four, vicious words. And hearing them from Blake makes her tense immediately.

“You know I’ve been writing a lot of songs on my own. And, well, me and a few guys, we wanna form a band.”

Her stomach drops and the horror must have shown on her face because Blake grabs her hand. “Oh, god. No, Jenny, not – I’m not _leaving_. Just, a side project.”

She relaxes, but only slightly. “I see,” she grits out, suddenly filled with irrational anger and she wants to roll her eyes at herself.

“It’s just something I need to do. Please, sweetie.”

No!, she wants to scream. She’s scared to death.

They sit there in awkward silence and Blake looks helpless.

“Jenny,” his voice is desperate and she can’t deal. Leaves.

They don’t speak for a week until she goes over to his place, hugging him as soon as he opens the door.

“I’m sorry.”

He holds her close.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispers.

“You won’t.”

+++

_Your ship may be coming in_

_Me First_. The title throws her for a bit. “It’s just a joke,” Blake assures her.

“No, I know,” but it scares her more, because what if he always wants to be ‘first’ from now on. What if he _does_ leave?

At his first show, she’s there, watching him from the side of the stage and smiling. After his set he runs over, picks her up and twirls her around. She laughs and slaps at him to put her down. He’s smiling so bright and she touches his face fondly. He twirls her yet again and before she can catch her balance he’s kissing her on the mouth, lingering longer than he should, still high off the show. She feels his tongue, for the first time in almost five years, sneaking across the seal of her lips and she brushes it with her own. Then he’s bouncing off and she watches with a smile, a hand pressed against her lips.

Blake’s tour finishes and then it’s back to them. They write together and laugh and it’s just like it always was; until it’s not. He goes off by himself for long hours, writing alone and pretty soon she’s doing the same, scribbling lyrics in secret notebooks, not knowing what they’re for, but needing it. Then Conor offers her to a chance to go solo and she’s flabbergasted. It’s not something she’s ever thought about, even though the songs she’s written lately haven’t exactly been Rilo-esque.

The more she thinks about it, the more she wants it. She keeps writing and it isn’t until nearly a year later she decides to do it, realizing it’s her turn to sit Blake down and utter those same four words. He’s surprised, to say the least, and also somewhat angry.

“Why now?”

‘Because it’s the right time. You’re working on your second album and it just fits.”

“Yeah, and then they’ll be coming out around the same time,” he says skeptically.

“I know. I was thinking… what if we have them released the same day?”

His face falls. “Jen.. what are you..?” his voice sounds small, hurt.

“Think about it. Wouldn’t that be fun? To give the fans both of us at the same time, just like Rilo?”

“I don’t want a competition, Jenny.”

She squeezes his hand, “Neither do I.”

Except his next words are, “It’s gonna be one of the best albums of the year. It’s you,” and he’s looking down and you suddenly understand; pride mixed with insecurity and he’s fucking terrified.

“They’ll love you,” she says softly. “They already do.”

Silence.

“Blake,” and he looks up at the intensity in her voice. “I need to try this.”

She does. She needs to prove to herself she can do this alone and, just maybe, prove they can survive it.

He squeezes her hand hard and they sit for long minutes, until he finally says, “Okay.”

+++

_And something's got to change  
'Cause our love's the slowest moving train_

 

Blake picks her up from the airport in the van they both share, which never fails to confuse her since they bought it before they could afford anything more. He never mentions getting another car and, secretly, she enjoys the domesticality of it all.

Recording the album was weird. She kept looking over to smile at him, barely catching herself in time. Once in the car she pulls out a disc and holds it up to him.

“Um, got the demo. Wanna hear?” He nods and they drive in silence, her voice filling the air around them as she looks down at her feet. He hasn’t said a word and she has to bite her lip a number of times, stomach in knots. Finally during ‘It Wasn’t Me’ he speaks.

“Well, this is classic.”

She lets out a long, deep breath and they talk the rest of the way. When they get to her apartment he carries up her bags and places them in the center of the room, looking a bit lost. She walks with him toward the door, about to tell him to stay for a while, when his hand is suddenly clutching her own, fiercely.

“I can’t lose you either,” his voice desperate, eyes not meeting hers.

“You won’t.,” she promises, replaying the same scene from two years ago. Then he’s pulling her in close and she holds onto him, rubbing small circles on his back. They stand like that for at least a minute and then his hands drift to the small of her back. Her breath hitches slightly and she grasps at his shirt, curving her face into his neck while he does the same. She cups the back of his head gently as her shirt rids up, causing his fingers to kiss bare skin. He slowly slides the pads up her back and her breath grows uneven against his neck, shivering as his fingers trace two lines up and down her back. She’s getting wet and clutching at his back while his hands dip lower, skimming beneath the waistband of her jeans, their bodies moving against one another ever so slowly. Then his touch is gone and he lifts his head, their cheeks pressing together. “I should go,” he says, stepping away.

She nods and runs her hands through her hair, trying to catch his eye, but his gaze is elusive. “I love you,” he says in a rush, and then he’s gone.

It’s something they don’t say very often and when she echoes a response, no one hears it.

+++

_Cause I never loved somebody  
The way I loved you_

They didn’t talk about it. The albums dropped and everything was fine. She tries to pretend she wasn’t holding her breath for months. She plays a show opening for him and never stops smiling at the crowd. It still feels strange not having him next to her; even though he’s in the same building he feels miles away. When she looks to the side of the stage, she sees him hanging back in the shadows, a smile playing over his lips, nearly hidden by the ridiculous mustache. The affection in his eyes is undeniable and she knows she’s mirroring it.

When she goes onstage to sing with him it feels like they’ve never been apart. They sing The Frug and With Arms Outstretched, sneaking glances at one another. She smiles at him with dancing eyes, shivering every time he comes over to touch her.

When he gets offstage he runs over to her again, but this time his eyes are dark and serious and just pulls her into his arms and holds on tight. She wraps her arms around him and shakes a little when his lips find her neck, just pressing. She strokes his hair, feeling his erection against her thigh. When he moves away it’s only to take her hand and lead her into his dressing room.

He locks the door and turns to her and then they’re embracing again, his hands warm and big on the bare skin of her upper back. He turns his head and that’s all it takes; they kiss passionately, tongues chasing one another. He slides his hands over her shoulders, out and down her arms, raising goose-bumps on her skin. Then his hands are pushing down her dress and she’s frantically unbuttoning his shirt. His hands slip lower as the material falls from her chest, fingers finding her nipples and cupping her breasts. She swallows a moan against his lips and sucks his tongue deep into her mouth. She moves out of his grasp to get his shirt off, and they stare at each other, flushed.

“Why?” she asks. And it’s not enough. She means _why again?_ and _why now?_

“You know why,” he tells her, his eyes open and completely readable. And she gets it, now. She’d thought the threat of their solo endeavors was something they had to deal with, when in reality, it was something they needed to bring them to this point. The first time, all those years ago, it was young love and spending every day with that person, knowing they’d always be there. And then he broke her heart, putting the band first. They needed this, all of it, the fear and uncertainty to get back to one another.

They kiss like it’s oxygen and stumble backwards to the couch. He presses her down and covers her body, lips on her neck, hands caressing her over her dress, then slipping beneath, his fingers traveling along her thigh and between her legs.

She cries out when his fingers pluck her underwear aside, finding her clit with practiced ease. Her head falls back as his mouth traces liquid heat down her chest, sucking on hard nipple as his finger slips inside her.

“Oh, oh god, Blake,” she moans, clutching at his shoulder as he crooks his finger in her wet pussy and thumbs her clit. She reaches blindly for his fly, hand moving along the thick bulge before easing his zipper down. He’s mouthing her breasts and she’s sobbing brokenly until she comes against his hand, hips snapping up. She’s panting and disheveled as she straddles him, pulling his cock out and running her hand up his shaft.

“Jenny,” he moans, and she twists her wrist, thumb flicking across the head.

“Condoms.”

“Dresser drawer.”

She climbs off him, shedding her dress and panties as she goes.

“Oh, fuck,” Blake breathes and she grins, feeling his eyes all over her. When she turns back he’s staring, eyes dark, pants pushed down further, his cock thick and long against his stomach. It looks bigger than she remembers. He reaches a hand out and she straddles his thighs, opening the condom and rolling it down his cock. He hisses, hand squeezing her upper arm. She lean forward and kiss him long and slow, lips barely moving across his and Blake moans, clutching her tighter and holding his cock by the base while she sink down.

“Oh my god,” he breathes and slides his lips down her jaw as their groins meet and his balls rest bump against her ass. She starts to move, rocking on him slowly, moaning his name as his hands palm her back. She pushes down on every upstroke, his mouth on her breasts again, her nails scratching down his back. They find their rhythm as if they never lost it, relearning each other’s bodies, more experienced now. He tastes the same, that smoky flavor that’s only Blake and she squeezes her muscles around him the way she knows he loves.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, licking and biting his way from her chest to her mouth, “feel so good,” he breathes against her lips, “you still feel so good.”

She moans, pinching his nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“Missed this,” comes the admission, barely audible.

“Yeah,” she chokes out, and it’s a harsh realization and affirmation all at once; it’s always been Blake, of course it has. He cups her ass, thrusting up hard into her while pulling her closer. One hand slips between their bodies and then he’s thumbing her clit again, swallowing her gasps with his lips and tongue, until she spasms around him, crying out. Her head falls back, body arched, mouth twisted in euphoria.

“So fucking beautiful,” Blake groans, thrusts short and erratic as she squeezes him tighter, and she laughs at the unintentional quote, still breathing hard when he comes inside her.

She hangs her arms over his shoulders, hair sticking to her face and forehead. He raises a still unsteady hand and brushes away the hair with a tenderness that makes her heart swell. She presses against his chest, breath slowly evening out, and they explore shoulders and backs with shaky fingers. He kisses her eyelids then takes her mouth for another slow, lingering kiss. She’ll have redness from his subtle on her face and everyone will know what they just did. She doesn’t care, just kisses him deeper, hating the stupid mustache and the way it tickles her lip, but loves him. She loves him. She shifts slightly, allowing him to slip out of her and strips off the condom.

She ties it and tosses it in the wastebasket next to the couch, then turns back to him. “God, Jenny,” Blake says. She leans forward, kissing him softly, and his arms immediately come up to cradle her.

“What is this?” he whispers and she can hear the fear but it doesn’t frighten her anymore.

“This is us.”

[end]


End file.
